


Rainbows

by herekittie



Series: To Get to Where They Are, First You Must Know Where They Have Been [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Orphanage, Pre-Canon, Vaguely NSFW-ish in the beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 00:39:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8869072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herekittie/pseuds/herekittie
Summary: There was a double rainbow in the sky the day he arrived at the orphanage, a sister told him one day. It was a lucky sign, she said. He would get adopted by a good family and live his life happily with them.Hunk had replied, “But I’m already happy.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Finally an update. I wrote most of this in one day, I'm sorry if it shows.
> 
> A note: the orphanage is not necessarily religious despite my use of 'sister' to refer to the staff. It's just how Hunk sees them in relation to himself. And they all ended up sisters so.
> 
> Beta by [pawbeanandpupper](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pawbeanandpupper/) as usual.
> 
> (also when will I finally not write in passive)
> 
> Promo posts on [tumblr](http://herekittie-writes.tumblr.com/post/154591336191/rainbows-herekittie-voltron-legendary/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/herekittiew/status/810148977610018817)!

Hunk’s first memory was of milk. Sweet, rich milk, sucked through a soft teat. He had spilled some in his eagerness, white dripping from the corner of his mouth, and the chest underneath him rumbled with laughter. A gentle hand dabbed at the spill with the corner of a napkin and wiped his lips.

Hunk’s second memory was a song. Soft, sad, but it filled him with warmth because he knew this voice, as young as he was. It caught and hitched at odd moments, sounded strangely wet at others, but Hunk loved it all the same.

Hunk’s third memory was a hug. Strong, tight, he felt it all the way down to his bones. He felt safe, lost in the deep pressure. Nothing could harm him here; maybe elsewhere, but here, he was protected. Fingers cupped the back of his head, and Hunk was swayed from side to side, not too fast but not too slow. The rhythm was soothing.

The song came again, this time sharper, this time louder, with more wet pauses in between. Hunk’s little eyebrows furrowed, and he reached out for the closest thing he could reach. His small hand patted the squishy flesh of a cheek, once, twice, and the song stopped.

The hand that was at the back of his head moved to grab at his, so much larger than his own. A pair of lips pressed against his forehead, and he giggled.

When the song started up again, it was softer, it was sadder, but it filled him with warmth all the same.

Hunk closed his eyes and fell asleep in the embrace.

* * *

There was a double rainbow in the sky the day he arrived at the orphanage, a sister told him one day. It was a lucky sign, she said. He would get adopted by a good family and live his life happily with them.

Hunk had replied, “But I’m already happy.”

Sure, their clothes were worn-down and passed from kid to slightly smaller kid, but that meant the clothes they had were soft with age.

Sure, they had to share toys because there were not enough to go around, but it meant everybody learned early on to share and make up their own games.

Sure, sometimes the food on their plates wasn't quite enough to fill their bellies to the brim, but all the kids made sure no one lost out. If someone was sick, at least two other kids would push their most delicious morsel on them so, by kid logic, they could get better soon.

Everybody laughed together, played together, did chores together. No one was unkind, everyone supported each other.

For a five-year-old, life seemed pretty good.

* * *

For a twelve-year-old, not so much.

Money had always been tight, but the funds coming in grew smaller as the years went by. Several kids (young ones, more adoptable ones) left the orphanage not because they found a family, but because the food could not feed as many mouths anymore, and the sisters by some miracle managed to find other orphanages willing to take them in.

With the dip in funds, they could not afford to take in more children. The ‘unlucky’ ones came of age and left on their own, and the younger ones grew older and older, less cute, less adoptable.

Of course, everybody tried to keep moral up. Organized fundraisers, told jokes, told stories, but it was barely enough.

Hunk took over their little kitchen when he was twelve-and-a-half, looked over their limited ingredients, and, with the supervision of the kitchen chef, made his first dish. It was stew, nothing fancy, but with a little Hunk influence in it too: some herbs he found growing in the overgrown back gardens, thrown in while the chef’s back was turned.

Seeing the faces of his brothers and sisters light up as they took their first spoonful was a sight Hunk would never forget.

(He got a scolding once the sisters caught on though, of the dangers of eating wild forage and feeding them to everyone unannounced, of deadly poisoning and consequences, but that little Hunk influence made his siblings’ day, and this he could work with.)

* * *

Fourteen-year-old Hunk and his army of little siblings looked out over the back gardens and cheered. Hunk’s eyes might have teared up a little.

After the Stew fiasco, Hunk did his research, did odd jobs for pitiful strangers who knew of the orphanage’s plight, and inspired his siblings into helping him with his vision and convincing the sisters to actually let them. The main attacks of his strategy were the possibility of lightening their food situation and the combined force of fifteen sets of puppy dog eyes.

The payoff was this: a few rolls of potatoes, some tomatoes, assorted greens, a small bed of herbs and spices lovingly tended to by Hunk.

It wasn’t much, and harvests were not very often, but it helped fill bellies and put a little spare change in their pockets in fundraisers.

“You did good,” the head sister said, petting Hunk on the head. Hunk beamed up at her and hoped his smile could convey everything his voice could not. He was pretty sure it would come out squeaky and weird and that would ruin the moment.

* * *

Fifteen-year-old Hunk pretty much ran the kitchen nowadays.

“You got a gift,” the chef said with a smile, after she finished off the first original recipe Hunk presented to her, made without her help or guidance.

“He’s got a gift,” his teacher told the sister who attended his parent-teacher conference, while Hunk rubbed his fingers together in the seat next to her. His teacher slid a pamphlet across the table. “This might be worth applying for.”

In big block letters, set against a background of dark blue and pinpricks of white, were the words “Galaxy Garrison Gifted STEM Stream”.

* * *

A quick internet search with the library’s computer told Hunk everything he needed to know.

  1. The Galaxy Garrison is a government organization dedicated to space exploration.
  2. The Galaxy Garrison has special early education STEM streams to find students to train as engineers, navigators, analysts, pretty much any position besides pilot.
  3. These students had to be the best of the best, the cream of the crop, nation-wide, to even be _considered_ for the course.
  4. Successful students graduate with a certificate with the Galaxy Garrison seal.
  5. The Galaxy Garrison seal has a lot of weight behind it.
  6. Employers are always looking for people with the Galaxy Garrison seal, and wealthy employers aren’t stingy with pay if it means getting them under their name.



To Hunk, it was clear what he had to do.

* * *

“You’re sure this is what you want?” The head sister asked, pen poised over paper.

“Yeah,” Hunk replied. There was no hesitation, no doubt in his voice. “This is what I want.”

She peered at him over her horn-rimmed glasses, and smiled at what she saw. She lowered her pen and signed the application form.

* * *

Hunk screamed when the letter from the Garrison arrived in the mail, and refused to come out of his room for the reveal despite all the sisters and all his siblings calling out for him from the other side of the door.

“You can’t hide forever!” One of his little brothers yelled. “That’s my room too!”

In the end, the head sister let him stay where he was, and pushed the opened letter under the door, unread. “Whenever you’re ready,” she said, ever patient, and shooed the spectators away.

Fifteen minutes later, his heart pounding in his ears and feeling vaguely nauseous, Hunk unfolded the letter, and screamed again.

He threw open the door, ran down to the head sister’s office and nearly running over a little sister, and barged in.

It was hard to breath, his eyes were wet and his vision swimming, but he still found the energy to choke out “I got in” before breaking down in tears on her office threshold.

The rest of the day went by in a blur of hugs and cheers and tears, and gentle reprimands for scaring the living daylights out of the sisters. The chef cooked a special dinner in celebration with Hunk’s first original recipe.

It was the best day of his life.

* * *

There was a double rainbow in the sky the day he left the orphanage. A special car was here to pick him up because the orphanage was too out of the way of the normal bus routes.

His siblings crowded around him and hugged him and cried. They wished him good luck, don’t forget us, remember us, ok?

“Of course I’ll remember you, all of you,” Hunk said, proud of the way his voice remained steady despite the tears burning his eyes. “It’s not like I’m gonna be gone forever, you know?”

They knew, and they still cried, and Hunk had always been a sympathetic crier, so he eventually broke down and cried, and they all cried together for the last time. Who knew if his siblings would still be here when he comes back?

“Time to go.” The head sister clapped his shoulder gently. Hunk wiped his eyes and nose with the back of his hand and extracted himself from all the little hands clinging to him.

The car was shiny and black, the driver’s window rolled down to reveal a stern-faced man tapping the door impatiently. “I’m with the Galaxy Garrison,” he announced, flashing his ID badge. “I’m here for Hunk Garrett.”

“That’s me.” Hunk picked up his lone suitcase, and took a few steps towards the car before the urge to look back was too overwhelming.

The sisters were all there, some comforting sobbing children, others waving goodbye with wet eyes.

The head sister smiled and nodded at him. “You’re going to be great.”

“I will,” Hunk said, voice breaking at the end. “I promise. And I’ll come back.”

She laughed, and all at once it hit Hunk how _old_ she was. The wispy grey hair, always in a bun, the creases on her forehead and the grooves around her mouth, the crow’s feet at the corner of her eyes.

She had been there since the beginning, a constant through the troubles and strifes, always ready with a smile and a hug and wisdom in spades.

Hunk dropped his suitcase and ran back to her, throat raw with sobs, wrapped his arms around her, and she was so _small_ ; he never really noticed. Once, he had to look up at her. Now, he looked down, and buried his face in her shoulders. “I’ll come back,” he whimpered.

“I know you will,” she said, and rubbed his back the special way, the way she saved for soothing children with nightmares and fevers. “Now hurry along, your future awaits.”


End file.
